Freed (Fifty Shades as Told by Christian #3) - E.L. James Page 0,14

behind this. I have to say I’m at a loss.”

“My team is compiling a list of potential suspects,” Welch says.

“I’ll do the same.”

“Sir, now that this is on the FAA site, the press may pick it up and start asking questions,” Taylor says.

Shit. “You’re right. You can brief Sam now. I’ll get him up here.”

“Will do,” he responds.

If this is going public, I have to tell Ana, too.

How the hell did we come to this?

Sabotage!

I do not need this shit right now.

I leave the two men discussing likely suspects and poke my head out of the door. Andrea looks up from her computer. “Mr. Grey?”

“Ask Sam and Ros to join us.”

“Will do.”

There’s a knock on my office door. It’s Andrea. “Would you like more coffee?” she asks.

“Please.”

On my computer screen is a list of all the acquisitions I’ve made since I started my company. I’m going through each one to see if I can find any potential suspects. So far I’ve drawn a blank; it’s depressing. Deep down I’m worried about Ana—if someone wants to hurt me, she could end up as collateral damage. How could I live with myself if that was the case?

“Latte?”

“No. Black. Strong.”

“Yes, sir.” She closes the door and an e-mail pops up from my girl.

From: Anastasia Steele

Subject: Quiet Before/After the Storm?

Date: June 21 2011 14:18

To: Christian Grey

My dearest Mr. Grey

You are most quiet today. This concerns me.

I hope all is well in the land of high finance and business dealings.

Thank you for last night. You are quite the mouthful. ;)

Axx

PS: I see Mr. Bastille late this afternoon.

Ana! A warm flush spreads under my collar and I loosen my tie. She is quite the wanton with her choice of words. I type my response.

From: Christian Grey

Subject: Storm is here

Date: June 21 2011 14:25

To: Anastasia Steele

My darling fiancée

I must congratulate you on remembering your BlackBerry.

The storm clouds are gathering here and I will apprise you of the weather report and coming deluge when home.

In the meantime, I hope Bastille is not too hard on you. That’s my job. ;)

Thank YOU for last night. Your stamina and your mouth continue to amaze me in the best of ways. ;) ;) :)

Christian Grey

Meteorologist & CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

PS: I’d like to collect your remaining belongings from your apartment this week. You’re never there…

From: Anastasia Steele

Subject: Weather Predictions

Date: June 21 2011 14:29

To: Christian Grey

Your e-mail has done little to assuage my concerns. I comfort myself in knowing that should it be needed, you own a shipyard and can no doubt build an ark. You are, after all, the most competent man I know.

Your loving Ana xxx

PS: Let’s talk this evening about when I move in.

PPS: Is meteorology really your thing?

Her e-mail makes me smile and I run my index finger over the x’s.

From: Christian Grey

Subject: You Are My Thing.

Date: June 21 2011 14:32

To: Anastasia Steele

Always.

Christian Grey

Madly in Love CEO, Grey Enterprises Holdings, Inc.

It’s 5:30 when Dr. Flynn waves me into his office. “Good afternoon, Christian.”

“John.” I amble over to the couch, sit down, and wait for him to take his chair.

“So, big weekend for you,” he says, sounding affable.

I look away. I don’t know where to start.

“What is it?” he asks.

“Someone’s trying to kill me.”

Flynn pales—a first, I think. “The crash?” he asks.

I nod.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” He frowns.

“My people are all over it. But I’m at a loss as to who it might be.”

“You have no inkling?”

I shake my head.

“Well,” he says, “I hope the police are involved and that you find the culprit.”

“It will be the FBI. But my main concern is Ana.”

John nods. “Her safety?”

“Yes. I’ve put additional security in place, but I don’t know if it’ll be enough.” I swallow my rising anxiety.

“We’ve talked about this,” he replies. “I know you loathe feeling out of control. I know you’re panicked about Ana, and I understand why you feel that way. But you have the resources and you’ve put measures in place to keep her safe. That’s all anyone can do.” His gaze is level and sincere, and his words are reassuring. He smiles and adds, “You can’t lock her up.”

My laugh is cathartic. “I know.”

“I also know you’d like to but put yourself in her shoes.”

“Yeah. I know. I get it. I don’t want to drive her away.”

“Exactly. Good.”

“That’s not all I want to talk about.”

“There’s more?”

I let out a long sigh and recount in the briefest of terms the argument with Elena at my birthday party, and the subsequent rows with each of